Possession
by Jo. R
Summary: A stranger connected to a case from the past puts Abby's life on the line. Abby/Gibbs pairing, very slight Tony/Ziva.


Title: Possession  
Author: Jo. R  
Pairing: Abby/Gibbs  
Summary: A stranger connected to a case from the past puts Abby's life on the line.  
Spoilers: 'The Good Wives Club'  
AN: First foray into the NCIS fandom – thought I'd dip my toe in and see what happens. Made up my own backstory for Abby, which I'll probably revisit at some point. As for the tattoo thing – which will make sense when you've read the story – that idea came to me thanks to an interview I watched wherein Pauley Perrette commented on it.

* * *

The disc was delivered with the morning mail. Gibbs barely glanced up from his coffee, an eyebrow quirking only a little at the sign of the familiar handwriting scrawled across the front of the padded envelope.

He picked it up and twirled it around with two fingers, frowning slightly at the lack of return address. Abby Sciuto had gone on vacation unexpectedly two weeks before and the padded envelope was the first piece of communication from his favourite lab tech. There'd been no postcards, no email, not voicemail explaining her sudden need to leave and, despite the misgivings he'd first had, Gibbs had let his team talk him into realising she was due a vacation – the past six months hadn't been easy on any of them.

It didn't take long for his curiosity to get the better of him; he opened the envelope and his brow furrowed at the sight of the CD. He stared at it quizzically for a few moments before moving to put it in the disk drive of his PC – even he, as technologically challenged as Abby kept reminding him he as, knew the best way to discover the contents of the mysterious CD was to browse it with his computer.

While his mind supplied a never-ending supply of speculation on what Abby might have sent him, nothing it could create came close to the reality.

A video began to play almost immediately, without sound at first until he remembered he'd hit the mute key earlier when the blasted start-up tune had blared too cheerfully out at him for 4am in the morning.

_"Special Agent Gibbs, allow me to introduce myself." _The voice he heard didn't match the picture, the image of Abby tied and bound to a chair in an otherwise plush-looking room. It took him a split second longer than it should have done to hit pause, his mind momentarily stunned by the sight of the unsightly bruises marring the all-too-pale skin of the black haired scientist.

"McGee, get DiNozzo and David."

Tim McGee glanced up from his own computer, confused. "We have a case, Boss? I didn't hear the phone..." A few taps of Gibbs's fingers, with slightly more force than necessary, and the colour blanched from McGee's face as he, too, stared at the big screen image of his battered and bruised former lover. "Tony and Ziva. On it, Boss."

Gibbs didn't respond. His eyes hardened, cold and unfeeling, as he stared into the frozen green eyes of Abigail Sciuto and vowed to kill the bastard responsible for the fear he saw in their depths.

* * *

"Special Agent Gibbs, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Steven Laffiter. I believe you were briefly acquainted with my cousin, Brett. As I admired his work and am a great admirer of yours, I thought I'd try an experiment of my own. I've done extensive research, Agent Gibbs, and believe out of the many, _many_ women in your life, Miss Sciuto here is the perfect candidate. She's feisty, yes? So strong and determined to prove herself – to everyone, yes, but especially to you. Have you ever noticed that, Agent Gibbs, or is it an observation you've chosen not to make? Regardless, Abigail has been my most honoured guest for two weeks now and we thought it was time to share our life together with you, her most trusted and most loved Agent Gibbs."

The camera panned in on Abby's face, focusing momentarily on the lone tear that slid down her cheek before fading into black for several seconds, two words appearing in white after another moment.

_Day One._

_Her head felt fuzzy, her eyes strangely difficult to open. Even when she managed to pry her eyelids apart, her vision was too blurred to make out anything other than the spot of red light shining from seemingly nowhere. Her eyes slid closed again as a small moan escaped her. She couldn't remember drinking the night before – sure, she'd gone to a club but couldn't quite recall what she'd done when she'd got there._

_Abby moaned again as the dull pounding in her head got more and more insistent and instinctively tried to reach a hand up to rub the back of her neck. "What the hell...?"_

_"Ah, ah, ah." The voice startled a gasp out of her and her eyes shot open again. "Be carefully hat you say, Abigail. I feel I should warn you that your dear Agent Gibbs and his team of NCIS agents will be receiving a 'best of' compilation of our time together so don't say or do anything you wouldn't want them to witness."_

_"Who are you? Where am I?" Her words were angry but couldn't fully disguise the fear she felt begin to blossom inside her. "Gibbs is so gonna kick your ass, you creep."_

_Her companion laughed, a surprisingly warm sound. "I have no doubt of it, assuming of course that we ever have the misfortune of meeting. However, your precious Agent Gibbs won't be aware you're missing until I'm ready for him to, and by then it may very well be too late for him to find me."_

_"Yeah, right." Abby snorted and squinted into the dark room. "You're underestimating him if you don't think he can find you or will realise something's up when I don't show for work on Monday."_

_"No, my darling. It is you who underestimate me. A request for leave, signed by your good self, was submitted and approved last night. No one will realise you're gone until I wish them to do so."_

_Panic turned her stomach and made her throat dry. Abby pulled at her restraints, trying to free her hands to no avail. She tried lifting her feet, only managing to move them half an inch from the legs of the chair she was tied to. "They won't believe it. They'll try and call..."_

_"Or they'll assume you've gone to stay with your friends at the Nunnery and will know they can't contact you there so why bother? I've thought it, through, Abigail. I've planned this for a long time."_

_"Why me?" Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms. "Why go to all of this trouble?"_

_The voice, when he answered, came close to her ear. So close she could feel the warm moisture of his breath on her cheek. "Because you're worth it, my darling Abigail. Simply because you're worth it."_

* * *

The screen went momentarily blank. Gibbs clenched and unclenched his fists, listening half-heartedly to the murmurings of his team. Fear and hatred burned in his gut while beads of cold sweat ran down his spine.

"DiNozzo, David, track Abby's movements. I want to know everywhere she went, every move she made after finishing work. Track her cell if you can. McGee, find out when and how the Director got the request for leave. Pull it for comparing to Abby's signature."

"Yes, Boss." McGee cast a worried glance at the darkened screen and hurried to his own desk, fingers typing frantically at the keyboard.

Tony DiNozzi and Ziva David exchanged a glance before heading to their own desks to collect their coats and weapons.

"On it, Boss." Tony ushered Ziva out with an expression of grim determination on his face.

"Abby will be okay," Ziva murmured, not sounding very convinced herself as they stepped up to the closed doors of the elevator, waiting impatiently for it to arrive. "She is strong, yes?"

Tony's brow furrowed momentarily as he thought of Abby, of the times the lab tech had faced death and won, then his mind switched to another strong, dark-haired woman he'd met at NCIS. A woman who'd died in spite of her strength, courage and intelligence – all of which had proved no shield against a bullet to the head. "Yeah, she's strong," he answered eventually, turning his face away from hers ever so slightly so she couldn't read the fear in his eyes. "She'll be okay."

Back at his desk, Gibbs recalled the video so it was visible only on his screen, watching as two words appeared in white.

_Day Two._

_

* * *

_

While the first room she'd woken up in had been dark, this room was white – a brilliant white that stung her eyes. She found herself lying on her stomach, arms raised either side of her body, hands bound to the table by restraints – the kind used in hospitals, she realised, panicking when she craned her neck and tried to kick her feet, realising that they, too, were secured.

_Her head fell forward momentarily, tears stinging her eyes. The room smelt like a hospital, too, the smell of disinfectant adding to her disorientation, making her head swim more than it already was as it stung the back of her throat._

_Abby lifted her head again and stared straight ahead, blinking when she saw the small camera pointed directly at her, the little red light signalling that someone, somewhere was recording her every move._

_"You bastard," she spat, summoning as much venom as she could muster in her voice. "You sick, demented son of a bitch."_

_The amused chuckle startled her – not because it meant she wasn't alone in the room but because it came from behind her, at the point she couldn't see despite her attempts at craning her neck to catch a glimpse of her assailant. _

_"I've been called a lot of things, my darling. A bastard, certainly, though never sick and demented." He sounded more pleased than insulted, a smile evident in his voice. He reached out a lay a hand on her leg, making her jerk with surprise when she realised she could feel his hand – his gloved hand, she recognised dimly – against her bare skin. "Stay still, Abigail," he murmured when she instinctively tried to thrash her legs to shake his grip. "It'll hurt a lot more if you move."_

_Fear coursed through her, the tears stinging her eyes breaking free to stream down her cheeks. She let her head drop back to the bed but stared unseeingly into the small lens of the camera, lips pressed tightly together to keep her sobs from escaping her throat._

_"There, there, my dear. It's not what you think." Her captor moved to stand beside her head, his hand moving from her leg. His fingers trailed up her spine as he moved, coming to rest on her hair as he stroked the black strands with a surprisingly tender manner. _

_It wasn't until his hand rested on her head that she realised his fingers hadn't touched the skin of her back directly. A sheet she could now feel rested from the back of her calves to just below her shoulders, wrapped around her body, concealing most of it from his view. Comforted for a brief moment, Abby refused to dwell on how she'd come to be in the position she found herself in, blocking the image of the stranger stripping her whilst unconscious, unwilling to think of what else she might have missed in her oblivious state._

_"I'm not going to hurt you," he continued to speak reassuringly, as if speaking softly would ease her fears. "I know what you're thinking but I promise, Abigail, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_"Then what are you going to do with me?" She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice, eyes fixed ahead on the little red light. It helped to have something to focus on, something to keep her conscious and aware of what was going on. "Why am I here?"_

_There was a pause and his hand seemed to hesitate over her hair. "You're here so I can make you perfect," he whispered, leaning down so she could catch his words. "So I can make you pure."_

_Abby huffed, twisting her hands in their restraints as he straightened and began to move away. If she could loosen her hands, get one of them free without him noticing… She bit her lip and concentrated, staring defiantly at the lens of the camera. "How are you going to do that?" She asked loudly, trying to discern where he was in the room by the sound of his voice. "Make me pure, I mean."_

_His chuckle reached her from across the room, as did the sound of a bottle being opened and some sort of liquid being poured into a container before it was stirred quite vigorously. Being the daughter of a deaf mother gave her some advantages; her hearing was finely tuned thanks to having to be constantly alert as a child as to any strange sounds in the house at nice since she was the only one who could hear them and raise the alarm. _

_"First, I thought we'd tackle some of those markings of yours." He replied after another moment of stirring. "I know I said I wouldn't hurt you, Abigail, but I warn you this may sting a little at first."_

_"My markings…? My tats?" Her eyes widened and she again twisted her head, trying to see what he was doing. "What are you going to...? Oh, no..." An acidic smell reached her and turned her stomach. "No, no, no. You can't remove tattoos with acid. You've got to use lasers and work in a sterile environment to prevent infection and..."_

_"I invented this myself," he interrupted pleasantly. "I based the formula on the chemicals used in a skin peel. It's quite interesting, actually. It took me a lot of practise runs to find the right combination – getting the right amount of phenol was difficult for parts of the body other than the face and trying to get the right quantities of phenol, trichloroacetic acid and alphahydroxy acids to ensure minimal scarring while managing to completely remove the skin stained by the ink... It will hurt, my darling, but I assure you, it'll all be worth it in the end."_

_He wheeled a small cart over to the top of the bed, the concoction of chemicals in a small bowl and looked down on her, a surgical mask in place over his mouth and nose. His eyes, dark brown, glinted with sickening glee as he snapped on a second pair of latex gloves._

_"You can't do this… Please… Don't…" She squirmed as much as she could, tried to flinch away from his as he reached for her, holding her head down firmly with one hand as he pushed her hair out of the way with the other. "Please."_

_"Hush now. It'll sting for a bit but then it'll all be over." A gloved finger ran over the outline of the spider web adorning her neck before his hand moved to pick up the brush he then dipped in the acidic solution. "You'll thank me when it's done, Abigail. I promise."_

_A whimper caught in her throat. Abby stared straight at the camera, wondering who was watching, willing them to help her. Her jaw clenched at the first contact between her skin and the brush, tears springing to her eyes as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. Beads of sweat formed at her brow as the pain increased, her vision blurring with the effort of staying awake._

_After five minutes, it became too much, pushing her body passed it's usually high pain threshold. With a sob that she couldn't contain, her eyes slid shut and darkness washed over her._

* * *

He watched her stare pleadingly at him from the screen, a cold hand clenching around his heart as he sat frozen, helpless, unable to do anything. Hit the pause button just as her image started to fade to black.

He'd sworn to himself that no harm would ever come to her, that Abby would be the one person in his life left untarnished by the evil he knew existed in the world. He'd known within months of her starting at NCIS that she was special, that there was something different about the young Goth who instantly saw passed his gruff exterior – or at least refused to let it bother her.

Gibbs knew he'd let her down in the past, though he also knew she'd argue with him if he told her. He'd let her down by failing Kate, by letting her be a target to be used against him. He'd let her down when he'd unknowingly left her with her psychotic lab assistant, not realising the danger she was in within the very walls of the lab they both considered to be her safe haven. He'd let her down by leaving her, by choosing to go to Mexico instead of facing his past and staying with the family he'd somehow found himself integrated in.

A family Abby was an integral part of, the centre that held it together.

Just as she was the thing that held _him_ together, even if he'd never told her, even if he'd never acknowledged it.

He knew there were people who saw her as a surrogate daughter, who'd nodded knowingly when they'd found out about Kelly and Shannon and said they'd suspected all along that the young forensic scientist was a substitute for someone, for the little blond haired girl he'd lost.

They were wrong.

At first, maybe, he'd tried to see her as a daughter. He'd felt an urge to protect her within hours of meeting and, within days, the heart he'd tried to keep closed off to everyone out of fear of being hurt again had begun to warm.

He loved her. She'd managed to worm her way into his affections, into his heart, healing the scars he'd thought were there forever, filling the hole his three marriages after Shannon's death had failed to fill.

He loved her, and he'd never told her.

He'd shown it, no matter how much he'd tried to stop himself, in the little gestures, in small and subtle ways. Making sure she was kept happy in the lab, providing her with a never-ending supply of Caf-Pows, taking on the Director and whoever else he had to in order to make sure she was safe and comfortable at NCIS, determined she'd never have a reason to leave. The smiles, the teasing and the affectionate kisses, the way he softened around her, how he spoke to her when it was just the two of them in her lab…

Gibbs stared at her unconscious form; at the tear-tracks down her even paler than normal skin and hoped he'd have the courage to tell her when he found her, when he'd tracked the bastard holding her down.

_Day Three._

_

* * *

_

Third morning, third room.

_Abby woke up on a soft mattress, a blanket tucked around her body as she slept on her stomach. Her hands were free as were her feet, creating a blissfully wonderful moment where she was allowed to believe the previous two days had been nothing more than a nightmare fuelled by too much alcohol and caffeine and not enough food._

_The illusion was shattered when she turned onto her back, her eyes opening as a wave of agony washed over her. She sat up at the same time as she put a hand gingerly to her neck, fingers encountering soft gauze instead of soft skin as her eyes wandered around the room and took in the unfamiliar décor. _

_She glanced down at herself, frowning in confusion at the simple white night-dress she found herself in, a modern version of the night-dress she wore at home, one that left a lot less to the imagination. She stood on unsteady legs, wavering for a moment, then pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it protectively around her shoulders as she set about exploring the room._

_The door, unsurprisingly, was locked securely and no matter how much she tried, the heavy wood just wouldn't budge. There were no windows that she could break or try to escape out of and a search of the room for anything she could use as a weapon proved fruitless; everything that was a potential threat to her captor had been secured down either by nails or some form of adhesive that her weakened body didn't stand a chance against._

_She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around herself, sitting on the edge of the bed with her feet curled up beneath her._

_Her neck stung, though thankfully it was the only place that did. Her back seemed okay, leading her to hope that the ornate cross tattoo she sported was still intact. She leaned her head to one side, wincing at the way the skin tightened and pulled. _

_There was no mirror in the room, probably because she could have used it to defend herself. It also meant she couldn't inspect the damage he'd done to her and while on one level she thought that maybe that was for the best, on the other hand she wished she could see exactly what she looked like._

_From her vantage point on the bed, she glanced around the room for the tell-tale red or green light, certain she was being watched, but was unable to find it. She fixed a glare on her face as she glanced around, wanting to make it clear that she wasn't happy with her current situation._

_"You're making a mistake," she said eventually, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room. "You think you're going to get away with this but you're not. They'll find you and when they do, Gibbs will take you apart piece by tiny, painful piece."_

_She waited, half-expecting a response and told herself she didn't feel disappointed when the expected reply never came._

_With a sigh, she leaned back on the bed, curling up on her side as much as she was able and wrapped the blanket around her shivering body._

_"Find me soon, Gibbs," she mumbled, eyes sliding shut as her limbs gave in to the weariness she felt. "Please come find me."_

* * *

Her plea broke his heart. Gibbs closed his own eyes, unable to watch her fade to black again. He kept his eyes closed, telling himself he'd open them when he heard voices to signify the beginning of day four's segment.

A few minutes passed, then a few more. Confused and more than a little wary, Gibbs cracked one eye open and realised with a jolt that the video had been paused. Both eyes opened as he sat up straighter in his chair, eyebrows rising when he caught sight of Ducky, the NCIS ME standing beside his desk.

"It's true, then," Ducky said gravely, his kind eyes dark with concern. "Abigail has been abducted."

"Has been for two weeks," Gibbs stared at his friend, guilt evident in his face. "I should've known, Ducky. It's not like her to go off without telling me."

The Medical Examiner sat down in the chair he'd pulled over from someone else's desk, turning the monitor of the computer so he could view what was on the screen. "Unless you've developed skills as a psychic and haven't told me, Jethro, there is no way you could have known that Abigail was not with her friends or visiting family as we all assumed." Staring at his friend through the lenses of his glasses, Ducky paused deliberately before shifting his gaze to the computer screen. "Am I to assume this is the mysterious video you received this morning? Should it not be in the lab, being analysed...?"

Gibbs shrugged. "The one person I trust not to screw it up has a starring role in it. And McGee's checking out the leave request the Director received." He gave a small, depreciating half-smile at Ducky's arched eyebrow. "I'm only up to day four, Duck, and he's already removed the tat from her neck and scared Ab's more than I've ever seen her. I have to watch the rest, see what kind of psychopath we're dealing with but..."

"But you don't want to watch her suffer. No one does, Jethro. Abigail means a lot to us all. More, perhaps, to you." There was a brief moment where a knowing look passed over Ducky's face before fading into grim determination. "You shouldn't have to watch it alone, my friend."

A silent look exchanged between them conveyed Gibbs' thanks and Ducky's acknowledgment. A second later, Gibbs moved his finger over the keyboard and hit play.

_

* * *

_

Day Four.

_Her body demanded rest and she was only too happy to oblige. Every time she let herself fall asleep, she told herself hopefully that the nightmare would be over when she woke up. She told herself that she'd find herself in a sterile hospital room, a dozen beeping machines driving her nuts while a familiar, calloused hand held hers securely. Or maybe she'd wake up in the nightmare room to find him standing over her, usually cold blue eyes warm with concern and relief, snapping at Tony and Ziva for arguing and disturbing her._

_She held her breath before opening her eyes but each time her hope was short-lived, dashed almost immediately._

_There'd been no visits from her captor and she wondered if it was part of his plan to torment her. Isolate her until she was desperate for company, until she craved human contact so badly that even his presence would be gratefully received._

_Maybe he was counting on her developing Stockholm Syndrome, she thought with a snort, glaring up at the ceiling of the room as thought he was there, watching her._

_"I'm happy by myself," she told the empty room, convinced that despite her inability to find any surveillance devices or bugs, her captor was still watching, listening and recording her every moment. She tried to remember what he'd said to her that first day, what felt like weeks ago. Something about a best of compilation going to Gibbs and the others? "Really, it's great. I grew up in silence; it's not something I'm afraid of."_

_She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, when a thought occurred to her. She kicked herself mentally, blaming whatever drugs he'd given her for her delayed reaction time. Her hands moved in rapid succession as she continued to talk, eyes wandering skittishly around the room._

_" If you think you're going to get me to like you in some sick and twisted way, you're going to be supremely disappointed..."_

_'Gibbs. I'm okay. Don't know who he is. No window in room, no traffic noise. Could be sound-proofed but don't think so. Don't know where I am but don't think I'm in the city. Can't remember anything from Friday night, went to new nightclub on 14__th__ Street. Don't know what he wants. Knows you. Waiting for you to find me, Gibbs. Know you won't let me down.'_

_"... Did I do something to piss you off? Is that why you chose me? Or is this some kind of revenge thing against Gibbs because that's getting really old and all you've probably managed to do is really, __**really**__ piss him off, which is never a good thing with Gibbs. Getting on his bad side is a big no-no..."_

_She continued babbling aloud until she once again fell asleep, her last message of the day unspoken but as poignant as any spoken words could be._

_'Don't feel bad, Gibbs. Not your fault. Just come and get me.'_

_

* * *

_

Day Five.

_She woke up in the make-shift bedroom but she was no longer alone. Her captor sat on the bed beside her, gazing down at her with dark eyes and a small smile._

_"Sleeping Beauty awakes," he greeted her, his smile growing wider as she scooted across the bed away from him. "Don't worry, Abigail, I'm not going to hurt you. I thought you'd have started to trust me by now."_

_She snorted and rolled further away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and gracefully getting to her feet. "I'm not in the habit of trusting strangers."_

_"Strangers? My darling, I'd hardly call us strangers. I know you quite intimately, Abigail. I know your body and soul are crying out to be purified. I know that when they are, you will make someone the perfect wife." He stood and walked around to the foot of the bed, standing deliberately between her and the door. _

_"And that someone would be you?" Her nose scrunched up in disgust. "I don't think so. Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with the way I am now so you can keep your purification crap to yourself, whoever you are."_

_"Whoever I am?" The man laughed and shook his head. "Forgive my rudeness, Abigail, and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Steven Laffiter. I see you don't recognise my name but that doesn't surprise me. My cousin, on the other hand, may be familiar to you although I don't think you had the pleasure of meeting him in person. Does the name Brett Evans sound familiar to you? Lieutenant Junior Grade Chaplain Brett Evans? No? Oh, well, I suppose with so many cases, it'd be hard for you to remember them all." Still, disappointment covered his features for a moment, as though he'd been waiting for a big reaction, building it up in his mind since he'd first started planning her abduction. "He was determined to find the perfect woman – the perfect wife..."_

_Horrified realisation dawned on her face and she took a step back. "He was the sick creep who chained up kidnapped women and tried to make them fall in love with him, then left them to rot when they didn't." She looked around the room almost desperately. "We're not underground, are we? I know I work underground but living there's kinda hinky."_

_Laffiter gave a small chuckle. "No, Abigail, we're not underground. Nice hint to your Special Agent, by the way. He's still not going to find us."_

_"So... You blame Gibbs and the team for your cousin killing himself and figured you'd take me as revenge? What, you're going to leave me to rot in here or you're going to put a bullet through my head like he did?" The details of the case came back to her in a flurry of images and forensics. She glanced around the room again, a frown marring her brow. "There's no guide," she said, mostly to herself. "Your cousin was obsessed with teaching his wives how to behave."_

_"Ah, yes. The handbook. Well." Laffiter rolled his eyes and slid his hands casually into the pockets of his black jeans. "That is where my cousin and I failed to see eye-to-eye. He was convinced the perfect marriage as based on subservience whereas I don't necessarily share his opinion."_

_Abby took a step back as he took a step forward. "But you both think it helps to kidnap your future brides and hold them captive against their will?"_

_"No, not quite. I wasn't originally looking for a wife, you see. I just wanted to prove that it could be done successfully, that there's a way to avoid Brett's mistakes and, of course, avoid being caught by your Special Agent Gibbs." He smiled at her gamely. "I haven't decided how this experiment will end, Abigail. I may decide to keep you myself or release you so that another can benefit from my teaching."_

_"You think you're going to change me into some Stepford wife by keeping me prisoner and removing my tattoos?" She stared at him in disbelief and folded her arms over chest in defiance. "I've got news for you, Mr. Laffiter. You can't change who I am by changing the way I look. You can't convince me to change the way I think or feel or act no matter what you do to me. This is me, this is who I am and I don't have a problem with it. I am __**never**__ going to be your perfect woman so you might as well give up and let me go now. Why bother wasting any more of your time when this experiment as you put it is pretty much guaranteed to fail?"_

_Laffiter smirked but said nothing. He looked her up and down, his smirk growing wider when she tugged off the blanket from the bed to wrap around her._

_"You can stop looking at me like that, too."_

_He still said nothing, choosing instead to turn on his heel and walk out of the room._

_Abby heard the telltale click of a lock being turned as the door was secured behind him. Her shoulders slumping with relief, she sunk down on the edge of the bed and let her head rest in her hands. "Please find me, Gibbs," she murmured. "_

* * *

The rest of the video featured more of the same. Until the final day, when the introduction to the video had been filmed, Abby remained in her makeshift bedroom, arguing with her captor but getting more and more desperate as time wore on.

Gibbs watched her address the envelope to him in a shaky hand on day nine, asking what it was for but getting no response. He watched her try to escape by pushing passed Steven Laffiter on day eleven, which was when she was given the bruises on her face and arms that he remembered seeing in the introductory clip.

It terrified him to know that fourteen days had passed and he'd only been allowed to see two hours worth of footage. His imagination worked against him, conjuring up all sorts of horrors that could've happened to her but were kept – thankfully? – from his eyes.

Day fourteen was the day Steven Laffiter had decided to introduce himself, the day she'd been bound to the chair in the direct line of the camera. He hit pause several times, studying everything about the room, about the position of the shadows created by what he assumed was a window to Abby's left.

The lab tech who'd been brought in to cover Abby's absence would have to work overtime to prove he was as good as his predecessor. Gibbs made notes in his mind of all the information he wanted from the CD and was just about to stop it and eject it when another window appeared on his screen.

A web browser, linked to the end of the video.

Linked to a live webcam feed where Abby still sat on the chair, arms tied behind her back.

He reached out blindly for his cell phone, offering Ducky a small but distracted smile of thanks when the Doctor placed it silently into his hand.

"McGee, get back here ASAP."

Less than three hours after the CD had arrived at NCIS headquarters, Gibbs and his team were assembled in Abby's lab, crowded around Mark Scott as the young lab tech wiped sweat from his brow for the second time in as many minutes.

Mc Gee sat next to the tech, fingers flying over the keyboard as he strove to pinpoint the location of the webcam, the image of the live feed playing in a box in the right hand corner of his screen as if to provide additional motivation.

"Any luck, McGee?" Tony moved to stand beside his teammate, glaring at the black of Mark's head as he did.

"The signal's bouncing all over the place," McGee muttered, eyes scanning the screen as his fingers continued to work overtime. "Whoever this Laffiter person is, he knows about computers. He knows _a lot_ about computers."

"I want his record now," Gibbs barked, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the back of the tech's head.

Mark turned slightly on his chair, his eyes wide as he gazed at the unrelenting form behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, swallowed reflexively at the look on Gibbs' face and stammered a reply. "I-I'm working on it, Sir, A-Agent Gibbs. But you said you w-wanted the video a-analysed…"

Gibbs leaned closer, his blue eyes as hard and cold as ice. "I want them both, Scott. Yesterday. You got a problem with that?"

"N-no, Sir!" Mark spun back around to face the screen, fingers resuming their work on the keyboard after a momentary pause. "Lieutenant Steven Laffiter's file, Sir, on the screen now. Should I continue with the video…?"

Tony and McGee winced as Ziva carried out the customary head slap on the hapless Technician, whilst Gibbs gave the Mossad liaison a faintly approving look before walking over to the larger screen so he could read the information without needing to go back to his desk for his glasses.

"Steven Laffiter, date of birth: 14th July 1968, 38 years old. Served with the Navy as Technical Officer based at Quantico for six years before honourable discharge for medical reasons," Tony read over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he glared at the image of the man holding his friend against her will. "No mention of his relationship to Evans."

"Look at the date of his discharge," Gibbs said in a low voice. "Three weeks after Evans killed himself."

Ziva moved forward to look at the screen. "It could be related. Perhaps he and his cousin were close."

"It means he's had over four years to plan how to avenge his cousin's death," Tony muttered, hands clenching into fists at his side.

"He told Abby he would not harm her and may still release her," Ziva pointed out, attempting to inject some hope into her voice but failing miserably. "Perhaps he will keep his word."

"He hurt her when he removed her tat, when he beat her up. I don't think we can take any of what he says at face value." Gibbs gazed intently at the picture, eyes narrowed as he studied the strangers face. "McGee, bring up the live feed."

McGee hesitated for a split-second, sharing a concerned look with Tony when the Senior Agent glanced back at him over his shoulder. "On it, Boss."

With a few clicks, the profile of Steven Laffiter morphed into the image of Abby. She sat facing the camera, her eyes moving around the room as she evidently tried to escape her bindings. Her shoulders jerked as she tried to pull her arms free, her expression tired but her eyes determined.

She stopped suddenly and tilted her head to the side as though she were listening to something.

Gibbs watched intently as the patch of light on the floor beside her was obscured slightly, a shadow passing over it, then the camera tilted to capture a wider picture and Steven Laffiter appeared in the frame, removing the gag from Abby's mouth before taking the seat opposite her.

"Turn up the sound, McGee."

The order was unnecessary; the volume started increasing before Gibbs had finished giving the order. The team watched, unable to look away, eyes moving between Abby and Laffiter, feelings alternating between anger and fear.

_"Good afternoon, Abigail. Do you think Special Agent Gibbs liked the video?"_

* * *

"I think he's probably planning how best to hurt you without leaving a mark right now," Abby replied smartly, licking her dry lips. "Bet Tony and Ziva have come up with a few ideas, too."

Laffiter laughed shortly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced almost knowingly at the camera. "Oh, I don't doubt that. Such a shame their efforts will have been for nothing, seeing as I don't intend on ever meeting them personally."

"I don't think you're going to have a choice in that. They'll find me. McGee'll work his magic to trace the location of your little hideaway and then they'll come and get me. And even if you're not here," Abby's lips curved up in an unfriendly smile, her normally warm eyes cold and hard, "Gibbs won't rest till he tracks you down."

Leaning back in his chair, Laffiter surveyed her with a glint in his eyes that made her have to stiffen her shoulders against a shudder. "You have a lot of faith in Agent Gibbs, don't you?!

Abby met his gaze evenly, her expression almost bored. "He's never given me reason not to."

Laffiter arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not even when he left you to go to Mexico? Or when he takes up with one of his many, many women?"

Her shoulders tensed and her lips formed a thin white line but Abby refused to otherwise rise to the bait. She stared at him impassively, refusing to give him a verbal response.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Laffiter's smirk widened. "He has no idea how you feel about him, does he, Abigail?"

One shoulder rose and fell in a shrug, her expression guarded as she stared at him with hard eyes. "Of course he knows. There's nothing Gibbs doesn't."

Laffiter gave a short bark of laughter. "So he knows you're in love with him?"

There was a pause. A moment where a glimmer of surprise mingled with fear passed over Abby's features as her eyes shifted temporarily to the little camera, her pale cheeks taking on a slightly pink hue as she returned her gaze back to the man sitting near her. "Is this part of your technique? The psychoanalyst part of the programme? Is that what your cousin did, too? He talked to his girls, trying to get inside their heads, trying to make them think he understood them better than anyone else so they'd fall in love with him?"

Annoyance turned the corners of his mouth down. "You didn't answer the question, Abigail."

"I have no intention of answering it, Steven." She gave him a faux-sweet smile, her eyes cold. "I'm not going to let you make me feel vulnerable. I've read the textbooks, I know the drill. You want me to confide in you, to say or do something that'll make me embarrassed to face the people on the other side of the camera." She gave a slight shake of her head, sad acceptance drifting into her eyes. "I'm not going to follow you down that road so if that's what you're after, you might as well kill me now. You won't get what you want from me."

"You'd rather die that admit the truth?" Surprise was clear in his tone, his eyes flicking from side to side as his mind processed her response, rapidly deciding on another tactic. "Are you really so ashamed of your feelings for Agent Gibbs that you would rather never see him again than admit to it?"

Abby rolled her eyes dismissively. "I'd rather die than let you into my head any more than necessary. I'm stuck here for the time being, nothing I can do about it. But I will not humour you or be a willing subject in your little experiment. My thoughts and feelings are mine and mine alone and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me share them with you."

"Please, Abigail, work with me a little." Laffiter leaned back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles. "You put a lot of faith in Agent Gibbs and his team. You must be close to them all."

"You should know that if you've been planning this for half as long as you say you have." Abby itched to fold her arms over her chest and tugged at her restraints. "We're closer than family, which is why I know they'll find me. They won't stop till they do."

"You've worked at NCIS for nine years," Laffiter spoke calmly, barely acknowledging her reply. "Joined after Gibbs and Doctor Mallard. You are financially responsible for your younger siblings though have turned down over a dozen offers of better paid jobs in the last five years. Your parents – biological mother and adopted father - died in a car crash eight years ago and you've been taking care of the family ever since. Your brother went travelling around the world at your expense and your sister lives in the family home in New Orleans with a woman called Amanda Layton, who you pay to take care of her and keep her company since little Sophie has a little problem with leaving the house since her parents died. Oh, and she's deaf, like your mother and adopted father. I find it intriguing that you claim to be so close to your NCIS family yet they know nothing about your siblings or your responsibility to them." He tilted his head to the side and surveyed her with genuine curiosity. "Would you still prefer to die, Abigail? Or would you like to start answering my questions so that your siblings can rely on you for a little bit longer?"

She exhaled slowly, her hands clenched into fists behind her back. Her fingernails, sharp and unkempt, dug into the flesh of her palms hard enough to draw blood. "Leave my family out of it and I'll talk. Nick and Sophie have nothing to do with this."

The smirk returned to his face, victory lighting his eyes. "As you wish."

* * *

Back in Abby's lab, Gibbs glared at the man on screen with enough venom to scare even the most hardened of Agents. Tony looked between his boss and the screen, torn between his desire to find out what Abby would have to divulge to Laffiter and his desire to give her the privacy to say whatever she had to without an audience.

"Probie, get me Laffiter's last known address." Tony gave Gibbs a small nod when the older Agent glanced at him. "We should talk to some of his neighbours. Might get some idea of what kind of person he is. Other than a psycho, obviously."

"Good thinking, DiNozzo. Take Ziva with you." Gibbs returned the nod and turned away from the screen. "McGee, record the live feed then focus on tracking its source. Scott, search for anything else that connects to this guy. Property in his family, living relations, anything that might give us a clue to where she is."

Without waiting for them to reply, confident that they'd follow his orders without question, Gibbs strode out of the lab. He started towards the elevators, paused, and turned on his heel towards the stairs instead.

"Do you think it's true?" McGee asked the remaining members of the team, ignoring the lab tech beside him who seemed quite grateful for it. He motioned to the now muted screen as he led tony and Ziva over to the printer where the requested data on Laffiter waited. "Do you think she's in love with him?"

Tony gave him a sympathetic glance, having suspected for a while that his friend still harboured hopes that the on-again, off-again relationship he'd shared with Abby would one day be on-again. He gave McGee's shoulder an awkward pat. "I think it's probably very complicated, Probie."

McGee glanced at him, trying but failing to keep his expression neutral. "Complicated, right." He changed the subject when he saw Tony open his mouth to say something, lifting the paper from the printer and handing it to Ziva, who stood silently throughout the exchange. "Laffiter's last known address. Current up until one month ago when he failed to pay his rent on time."

"Good work, McGee." Another awkward pat on the shoulder and Tony and Ziva were gone.

McGee took a deep breath and headed back to the computers, trying not to dwell on the ache in his chest. He had a job to do, he reminded himself. Help find Abby, make sure she was safe.

He had to try to tell himself that nothing else mattered.

* * *

The morgue was quiet when he got there. Ducky sat at his desk instead of standing over a body and there was no sign of his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, for which Gibbs was grateful for. He walked slowly over to the doctor, his feet moving soundlessly over the sterile floor.

For several, long moments, he stood in silence, leaning against the wall beside ducky's desk saying nothing.

"Quiet day," he said eventually, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room despite how quietly he'd spoken.

"A third of my caseload is linked to yours," Ducky answered just as quietly. He peered up at the Special Agent through his glasses. "I'm hoping this is one particular case where you won't require my expertise."

A shudder threatened to work its way through him but Gibbs stiffened his spine. An image flashed through his mind, a horrible image of Abby's green eyes staring up at him, features frozen in an eternal expression of fear.

"Me, too, Duck." He closed his eyes, willing the image away and instead focusing on one of his favourite Abby smiles, the one that lit up her face every time one of her machines confirmed a theory or broke a case. "He mentioned her family. Knows about Gloria and Ben being dead, about Sophie being a recluse. Hell, he knows she supports Nick and Sophie financially and I didn't even know that." He opened one eye when he sensed Ducky watching him. "He's three steps ahead of us and I have no idea how to catch up."

Ducky leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he studied the man standing next to him. "It troubles you how well he knows her but you can use that to your advantage, Jethro. Find out how he knows what he does, who he spoke to and you'll be one step closer."

Gibbs gave a small nod but made no attempt at moving. His eyes slid shut again and for a while, all that could be heard was the low hum of activity from the floors above.

"What else happened?" Ducky kept his voice soft but there was an edge of concern in it. "Is Abigail okay?"

"Yeah." Gibbs sighed. "Yeah, she's okay. He... he wanted her to talk. He asked her..." He sighed again and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, opening his eyes to watch Ducky's reaction to his words. "He asked her if I knew she was in love with me."

To his credit, the only outward reaction was a blink. "I see. And what would the answer to that be?"

"She didn't. She refused."

"No, Jethro, I mean do you know or are you in denial?" Ducky's expression remained calm his tone faintly curious.

A frown furrowed his brow. "I know she loves me, Ducky. And I love her. Like she said, we're closer than family..."

"That maybe but you're avoiding the question." Ducky sat up straight and leaned down to open his bottom drawer, taking out a half empty bottle of scotch and two small glasses. Without a word, he poured two small drinks and held one out for Gibbs to take. "I've suspected for some time now that our Abigail feels for you more deeply than she'd like us to believe."

Gibbs took the offered drink and downed it in one. "She's never said anything. Kept trying to set me up with Jenny..."

"She wants you to be happy and doesn't believe you can be with her." Ducky sipped from his own glass. "She is quite a remarkable young lady. One would not be surprised if you were to feel the same way."

"Have I mentioned recently how thrilled I am you're qualified in psychology?" Gibbs helped himself to another glass of scotch. "You hit the nail on the head, though. She _is_ young. And she's so... So full of life and optimistic about everything..." He ran a hand through his greying hair. "I can't think about this now, Ducky. Not till she's safe."

"Then we won't talk about it anymore. At least not until Abigail is once again safely within our midst." Ducky finished his drink, waited patiently for Gibbs to finish his, the put the two glasses and the bottle back in his bottom drawer. "Is there something I can do to help speed up the process? I seem to be at a loose end today."

Gibbs clapped him on the back, a grateful smile on his face. "You feel up to some field work, old man? I need you to put your love of psychology to work and get inside this guy's head."

* * *

While Ducky read through the file McGee and Scott had compiled on Steven Laffiter, Gibbs kept one eye on the live feed whilst he contacted Laffiter's former commanding officer and spoke to dozens of people associated with the man over the phone. It was killing him not to be out there, interviewing people, physically looking for Abby but he couldn't tear himself away from the computer screen long enough to leave the office.

Tony and Ziva took care of the legwork. They explored the man's apartment, disappointed to find he'd cleared it out but managing to get DNA and fingerprints to act as back up evidence when they caught the bastard. They spoke to the landlord, who described him as being a quiet, unassuming man who kept to himself and rarely gave cause for alarm. There were never any complaints from his neighbours and, when questioned, most of them hadn't realised Laffiter had even moved out.

They learned very little about the man himself, even from those who considered themselves his friends. Most knew nothing about his former career, no one could recall him ever mentioning his cousin.

"He never mentioned his family at all? Never went away for the holidays or mentioned in passing he was gonna go visit someone?" Tony leaned on the bar of the local drinking hole, the only one Laffiter was known to have frequented.

The bartender gave the wooden surface another half-hearted wipe, more focused on trying to get a glimpse down Ziva's top than he was on the questions. "Never mentioned anything. Kept to himself. Ordered the same drink every time."

"Was there anyone in particular he spoke to? Anything at all you can think of that might help with our investigation?" Ziva asked the question through gritted teeth; there was nothing she'd like more than to grab the bartender by the scruff of his neck and slam his face into the still-not-clean surface of the bar but she restrained herself – for Abby's sake. That, and because she felt the slightest touch of Tony's hand against her arm, a reminder that getting physical wouldn't help although she was in no doubt he shared the desire. "A female companion, perhaps?"

The bartender gave her a lecherous grin, unashamedly looking her up and down. "Don't think he swings that way, lady. He got hit on a few times, became a challenge to the regular girls. Don't think I saw him leave with one, not one of the regulars anyway. Not like me," he continued with a wink at Ziva. "Me, I'm all man. All ladies man."

"I'm sure you are." Her smile was far too sweet to be sincere but the bartender didn't notice. "Did you see him leave with a woman who is not a regular?"

He paused, lifted a hand to scratch his shaved head. "There was one woman, yeah. Couple months ago. Strange looking girl. Young, too. Lots of tats."

Ziva and Tony exchanged a look. "Lots of tattoos?"

The man nodded, his eyes narrowed though whether it was to remember or to peer down Ziva's top a little more, neither of the NCIS Agents could tell. "Blond girl. Kinda cheap-looking. Coulda been a whore."

"You see her since?" Tony asked, leaning more heavily against the bar as his patience began to wear thin.

"Not since that night, no. Would've remembered a looker like her."

"Does this establishment have some sort of security? CCTV footage of the night in question?" Ziva bit back a curse when he continued to stare at her blankly – when he was able to tear his gaze away from her chest, that was. "Could you describe her to a sketch artist?"

"Sure. She was well-built," he added, the corners of his mouth turning upwards again. "Nice set of…"

"Thanks," Tony cut in, pulling Ziva forcefully away from the bar, "for all your help. Someone will be here to see you for that description shortly."

Muttering curses in three languages under her breath, Ziva allowed her partner to tug her outside into the bright sunlight. She shook his hand off her arm as soon as the door closed behind them and stalked towards their car. "Useless piece of American crap," she muttered, kicking the wheel of the innocent vehicle.

"Think you'll find it's German," Tony quipped. He gave her a quick smile when she glared at him. "But you weren't talking about the car, were you?" He walked to the driver's side, grateful the keys were still in his pocket so he wouldn't have to endure her driving – Ziva driving on a good day was bad, Ziva driving on a bad day rivalled the worst rollercoaster ride imaginable. "Take it easy, Ziva. He's a creep but it's the first lead we've got."

"If it's even a valid one." She got into the car and slammed the door a little harder than necessary.

Tony acknowledged her with a shrug and shut his own door – gently. "She had tats. Abby has tats. He had to have studied them to figure out how to remove them, maybe had a practise run on something or someone before he did it to Abs. Maybe this girl knows something – maybe he paid her to be his guinea pig."

"He does like his experiments," Ziva conceded with a sigh. She crossed her arms over her chest as he put in the call to NCIS, requesting a sketch artist and updating Gibbs of their 'progress'. She snorted indelicately; progress was a laughable term for what they'd achieved. "Abby must be scared," she said quietly when he hung up and turned the key in the ignition. "She'll be putting on a front but she will be scared."

He hesitated before pulling away from the curb, giving her a soft look she caught out of the corner of her eye. "All the more reason to find her and get the bastard responsible to Gibbs," he replied just as quietly.

Ziva huffed in her seat, hands gripping her arms painfully where they were crossed over her chest. "As long as Gibbs is prepared to share," she muttered. "I want a go at this creep."

"Me, too." Tony fixed his gaze on the road ahead, his hands clenching on the steering wheel as he thought of what Abby would be going through. "Me, too."

* * *

"Tell me about Agent DiNozzo," Laffiter instructed, pressing his hands together and linking his fingers. He reminded Abby of the shrink her parents had sent her to after she'd gotten her first tattoo but she wasn't about to tell him that; he already knew far too much about her for her liking. "You're good friends, yes?"

"He's like an older brother." She shrugged as best as she could and purposely looked away – away from him and the camera watching her every move. "And a best friend. All rolled into one."

Laffiter glanced at the camera for a moment. "For someone so affectionate physically, you don't like to talk about your feelings."

"I'd have no problem talking about them to someone who wasn't you," Abby answered quietly. "I love him. Tony. He's great. Funny and sweet but nowhere near as macho as he pretends to be. He cares for people, maybe too much sometimes. He's had lots of relationships but only truly loved two, maybe three women in the time I've known him. Hurt me and he'll hurt you back. He'll leave the worst stuff to Gibbs but he'll insist on having his turn." She tilted her head to the side. "Who do you want to talk about next? McGee? Ziva? Ducky?"

"How about Agent McGee?" Laffiter gave her a knowing smile. "You dated him. Still have feelings for him?"

Abby rolled her eyes and dug her fingernails even further into her flesh. "I love McGee, too. He's probably one of the most kind and caring guys I've met and he's so smart – like, he's a real genius. We dated, yes, but we're better as friends. Close friends. He's probably the one who's going to find you," she added, affecting a thoughtful tone of voice. "He's an amazing guy. Really loyal, deserves a nice girl. One who isn't going to screw with his feelings."

"Is that what you did, Abigail? Did you hurt Agent McGee's feelings?"

"Not intentionally." Her head lifted, her expression fixed. "I never wanted to hurt him, I didn't figure on him falling for me more than I did for him. I... I love him but I'm not in love with him, which is what he deserves. And he'll find it, I'm sure he will."

Laffiter was silent for a while, staring at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. He watched her, studied her.

Waited for her to break first.

She tilted her head first to one side, then to the other, working out the kink in her neck. She rolled her shoulders as best as she could, tapped her feet against the floorboards in time with the tune in her head.

"Are you as close with Officer David as you are to your male companions?"

"Not initially," Abby answered honestly. "I resented her at first. She wasn't the person I wanted her to be. But she's great, she's... I guess I love her, too. She's one of us now, whether she likes it or not." Her lips tilted upwards in a small smile. "She's... She's a great person. One of the best. And she's another one who puts on an act but she really cares a lot more than she wants people to believe."

"So you're like a family," Laffiter mused. "Just like you said. Agents DiNozzo, David and McGee are... They're like siblings, I suppose. I wonder what that makes Doctor Mallard and Agent Gibbs?"

"Ducky's the uncle or the father, depending on how you're feeling at the time. And Gibbs is the same, I guess." She crinkled her nose, her brow furrowed. "But not for me."

Laffiter laughed, a noise that sent shivers down her spine. "No, I don't suppose you would see Agent Gibbs as a father figure now. Might be a little... disturbing? But Doctor Mallard, you say, resembles a father figure?"

"Ducky's great. Kind of guy you can go to for anything, never judges you, always makes time for you to talk about your problems... He has the best stories, an anecdote for every occasion." She smiled a genuine smile in spite of herself. "I can tell him anything and I know it won't go any further than the morgue walls unless I give him permission for it to."

"Do you talk about Agent Gibbs with Doctor Mallard? From what I understand, they're very good friends and it might get a little awkward given the circumstances. If Doctor Mallard sees you as a daughter and Agent Gibbs as a best friend, I mean..." Laffiter smirked again, enjoying the sight of the discomfort on her face. "Does Doctor Mallard know you're in love with Agent Gibbs? I think we established earlier that the man himself has no idea..."

"Ducky is my confidante. My friend. I tell him everything." Abby refused to answer the question directly.

Laffiter rolled his eyes. "So he knows. Does he approve, I wonder? Does he think it's a good idea or does he think you're completely wrong for his friend but cares about you too much to say? Or perhaps he has said it and that's why you're so afraid of your Special Agent Gibbs learning the truth?"

"I'm not afraid." Abby glared at him, clenched her teeth together. "Ducky knows and wanted me to tell Gibbs but I wouldn't. Won't. I need him too much to risk losing him and I know he'd probably feel the same way." She tilted her head to the side and contemplated him solemnly. "If you think getting some kind of confession out of me is going to change my relationship with Gibbs, you're wrong. I love him – am in love with him – but it's not going to happen. Not because I see him as a father because I don't and never have. It's hard to see someone as a father figure when you attracted to them. But it can't happen. I need him in my life and he needs me. I want him to be happy, to be with someone who can make him happy..."

"And you're so sure that person isn't you?"

She smiled, a sad smile that went hand in hand with the suspiciously bright sheen of her green eyes and the single tear that fell down her pale cheek. "I've never been surer of anything in my entire life."

* * *

He pulled the headphones off viciously and let his head rest in his hands.

Hands that ached to hold her close, wipe away her tears and keep her safe for all times.

Hands that wanted to hurt the man responsible for doing this to them, that wanted to pull the trigger or tighten on his throat till the bones cracked beneath the pressure...

Gibbs forced himself to exhale slowly, his eyes closed tightly as his head swam.

Abby loved him and it was hurting her. She loved him and thought she wasn't enough for him. He snorted humourlessly; surely it was the other way around. She was so vibrant, so full of life and full of energy for life... She saw beauty where others didn't, saw the good in people before she saw the bad...

"Boss..." For what had to be one of the first times since they'd known each other, Tony sounded uncertain. "We found the girl the bartender saw leave with Laffiter."

Gibbs looked up, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Where is she? In interrogation?"

"Ah, no, Boss." Tony glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see McGee or Ziva but his two teammates remained absent. "She's in the morgue."

"She's dead?" A flicker of something akin to fear passed over his face. "Murdered."

Tony gave a slight nod, a grim expression arranging his features. "Ducky estimates she's been dead three weeks." He hesitated, glanced down before lifting his gaze back up to Gibbs. "There's something Ducky thinks you should see."

It took him a heartbeat longer than normal to stand up, his eyes drifting to the image of Abby on the screen before he stepped away from his desk. "Let's go."

They walked in silence to the elevators, stepping inside when the doors opened. Gibbs was prepared to make the short journey in complete silence so was surprised when Tony hit the emergency stop button and turned to face him.

"Something you want to talk about, DiNozzo?"

"Boss... " Tony cut himself off, shaking his head slightly. "The girl... it's not pretty. But she's not Abby." He chewed on his bottom lip, eyes darting momentarily to the side. "You've gotta remember that she's not Abby and we're gonna find her before... before anything worse than what's happened to her happens."

"DiNozzo..."

"No, I need to say this. Let me say this. I... It's different this time. It's _Abby._ Abby's not supposed to get hurt. She's supposed to stay in her lab, all nice and warm, helping catch the bad guy from a safe distance. The closest she's supposed to get is at court and then there should be someone with her to protect her – that's gonna have to be a new rule, Boss. Protect Abby. Someone's gonna have start going with her to court and back and pretty much keeping an eye on her everywhere and she's gonna have to stop going to those clubs of hers because I had a look at the one she was at before she went missing and I've gotta tell you, Boss, it's not the kind of place our girl should be hanging..." A well-timed slap to the back of his head cut him off mid-tirade. Tony blinked and lifted his hand, rubbing the sudden sore spot. "Thank you. I needed that. It's just..."

Gibbs gave him a knowing look, understanding in his eyes. "I know, Tony. It's Abby."

Tony nodded, allowing his anguish to show on his face for a moment. "I threw up at the scene. I thought, for a moment..." He shook his head and reached for the emergency stop. "Just keep telling yourself it's not her."

He didn't question what Tony meant but wished he had when he stepped into the morgue and saw the missing members of his team, plus Ducky, gathered around the gurney. They stood doing nothing, just staring, obscuring his view.

"Jethro..." Ducky gave him a look when they were noticed, looking reluctant as he stepped aside to let Gibbs passed. "Mr. Palmer and McGee identified the poor girl as Louisa-Jean Kline. She was a runaway."

"Nineteen years old. Foster parents reported her missing. No leads, case went cold after two months. Seems she's been working her away across the country, ending up in DC a few months ago where she started working at a club as a dancer." McGee's voice echoed in his head.

Gibbs stared at the body and swallowed hard; he understood and sympathised with Tony's reaction. The former blonde's hair had been dyed jet black. Her face was bloodied and swollen as was the rest of her body. Horrific scars marred her skin all over, red marks with black streaks and dried blood. A half-removed tattoo on her neck in the pattern of a cobweb was covered in blistered, raw-looking skin.

"Most of the tattoos you can see were newly applied prior to his attempts at removing them." Ducky watched his friend rather than the body, biting his tongue to keep from rambling as was his usual style. "I believe this poor woman is how Mr. Laffiter was able to perfect his technique of removing tattoos, though many of his attempts would be classed as failures due to the scarring and side-effects of the solution he used."

"He made her look like Abby." Anger coursed through Ziva's voice. "He pretended it was her."

For a moment, it was. Gibbs looked at the slab and saw his favourite lab tech, her body battered and abused, smooth ivory skin marred by unsightly burns and scars. He saw her tattoos in his mind's eye, works of art that were so personal and meant so much to her ruined by a mad man's whim.

"There's more, Jethro." Ducky took a step closer to him, to the body. "Miss Kline was tortured and abused before she died. There's evidence..." The Doctor cleared his throat. "There's evidence that suggests she was sexually assaulted."

His heart stopped for a second before pounding rapidly in his chest. "Laffiter?"

"I believe so. Mr. Palmer has taken a DNA sample up to forensics to be certain."

Gibbs stared hard at the body. Blinked. "We're going to catch this bastard."

"Yes, Boss." Tony spoke from the doorway, seemingly unwilling to step any further into the room than he had to. "We will."

"Any luck tracing the webcam, McGee?" Gibbs looked up from the body, his gaze intense.

McGee shook his head, glassy eyes focused on the corpse. "Should have a location in a few hours. The computer's following his trail but he's good. Covered his tracks real well."

"Get back to the lab and keep an eye on it. I want to know the second we've got a fix." Gibbs swallowed back his compassion and hardened his voice. "Now, McGee!"

McGee jumped, startled. He squared his shoulders. "Yes, Boss." He walked out of the room, pausing only to acknowledge the small nod Tony gave him on his way.

"Ziva, DiNozzo, chase up the list of relatives and property Laffiter could have a connection to." Gibbs turned away from the body, knowing he didn't need to stare at it any longer as it would be forever ingrained on his memory no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it. "Ducky, do what you have to do." He started for the doors, pausing as McGee did when he reached Tony. "New rule, DiNozzi, send a memo."

"Boss?" Tony half-turned as Gibbs walked by, an eyebrow arched.

"Anyone who hurts Abby will pay for it. Painfully," Gibbs added, the threat clear. "Very, very painfully."

Ziva and Tony followed him out, leaving Ducky alone with the body. He leaned over the young girl, eyes sorrowful as he stared at the mess she had become. "Well, my dear, it's just you and I. He will get justice for you, Miss Kline. I can assure you the man responsible for harming you will suffer accordingly."

He gazed down on her, scalpel in hand and tried to keep from seeing someone else as he made the first deep incision.

* * *

The glass of water he'd given her after taking her back to her room and untying her hands fell to the floor, spilling the remaining contents onto the floor. Her arm fell over the side of the bed, her body limp. Abby stared up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, her tongue feeling thick and dry in her mouth.

"...Drugged me... Bastard..."

She heard the door open but couldn't lift her head, couldn't do anything but lie still as her legs were lifted up onto the bed.

Laffiter laughed, a hand touching her cheek as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I just want you to get a good night's sleep, Abigail. I thought you'd want a bath and a change of clothes but knew you'd be reluctant to do either in front of me. Don't worry; it'll all be over when you wake up." He hummed to himself as he peeled back the gauze covering her neck. "Healing nicely," he announced proudly. "I was thinking we could tackle the one of your back tomorrow. The cross," he continued, acting as though she'd taken part in the conversation and questioned him. "The smaller ones I'm not so worried at the moment."

"Don't..." A tear leaked from the corner of her eye as he began to undo the first button on the pale green shirt he'd dressed her in two days before. "Please... Don't..."

He did anyway but she was thankfully unconscious by the time the shirt was fully unbuttoned.

Admiring the view, Laffiter gazed at the pale white skin, trailing his fingertips over her stomach up towards the plain white cotton bra he'd put on her a few days ago. He glanced at the camera hidden in the lamp on the bedside table and grinned wickedly.

"Like what you see, Agent Gibbs?" His grin widened as though he'd been given a response. "You can look but you can't touch, my friend. You had your chance and let the opportunity pass you by." Humming, undeniably happy with himself, he gently rolled Abby over, slipping the shirt from her arms and shoulders so her bare back was exposed to the camera. His fingers trailed over the ornate cross tattooed onto her back, tracing the inked lines with the tenderness of a lover whilst his eyes surveyed it critically. "I think she'll look much better without it, don't you agree? My mother always said a woman who needed to mark herself in such a fashion was no more than a whore, feeding off the attention it attracts like maggots off a corpse." His eyes rose again, intense but still somehow amused. "Louisa was a sweet girl once, Agent Gibbs, like our Abigail here. Time and fate have not been kind to either of them."

Leaning over her prone form, Laffiter stared challengingly at the man he knew was on the other end of the webcam's transmission. "You have twenty-four hours, Agent Gibbs. I'll let you be part of our lives until then but after that..." The smile returned to his lips, a confident almost cocky smile that upturned the corners of his mouth. "After that, Abigail is mine and you will never see her again."

He imagined holding Gibbs' gaze for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the woman on the bed, his mind already fast-forwarding to his deadline, to the time when he could finally let himself claim her as his own.

"You got greedy, Brett," he muttered, wandering around the room as he gathered what he needed to take with him through to the small bathroom down the hallway. "One woman, if you pick the right one, should be more than enough."

Whistling, he left the room for a few moments, started the hot water running. Then he returned and gently picked up his precious cargo, unable to stop himself from winking at the camera as he whisked her away from its view.

* * *

The colours on the screen in front of him were beginning to blur. He blinked sleepily, willing himself to stay awake despite his body's demands that he get some sleep. Glancing at the clock, McGee realised it'd been twenty-seven hours since he'd reported for duty, twenty-eight since he'd rolled out of bed and dressed for the day.

His head lolled forward even as he told himself he couldn't fall asleep and it was only the sudden scent of strong coffee that enveloped his senses that kept him from doing just that.

"How's it going, McGee?" Gibbs held out the cup, his own blue eyes tired as they searched McGee's face. "Anything new?"

Taking the offered coffee gratefully, McGee took a long, appreciative sip before answering. "Nothing yet but I think we should have something in a few hours. There's only so many times the signal can be bounced between satellites so we've gotta be close…"

Gibbs nodded slowly, his expression troubled as he stared at the screen, almost as if he was willing it to give them the information they wanted. "If the live feed goes off, will you still be able to trace it's location?"

"It depends how close we get to it, I might be able to get a general location but not be able to pinpoint the exact coordinates…" McGee narrowed his eyes and turned his attention on his boss instead of the coffee in his hand. "Why? You think we're going to lose it…?"

"Laffiter said we had twenty-four hours left." Glancing at his watch, Gibbs grimaced in spite of his attempts at keeping his expression neutral. "That was five hours ago. We now have eighteen hours and forty-eight minutes in which to find the signal and get to Abby."

His appetite for the coffee waning, McGee put the cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. "What happens when times up? Did he say…?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not really." Gibbs heaved a heavy sigh. "Get a couple of hours sleep, McGee. Use the futon in Abby's office." When McGee opened his mouth to protest, the senior Special Agent arched an eyebrow. "There's nothing else you can do, is there? No way you haven't already tried of speeding things up?"

"No, Boss." McGee's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Nothing."

"Then get some sleep." Gibbs let a hand rest momentarily on McGee's shoulder. "We'll bring her home tomorrow, McGee."

"Will we?" McGee turned away from the computer screen fully and stared up at Gibbs, hope warring with scepticism in his eyes. "If we don't get a lock on their position before he terminates the feed…"

Gibbs tightened his hold on McGee's shoulder. "We'll find her, McGee. Anything else is unacceptable."

A look of understanding passed between them, a wordless acknowledgement that the other knew only too well what they were feeling. Another moment passed and Gibbs turned on his heel, walking out of the lab and towards the elevators.

McGee remained sat at the computer for a few minutes more before slowly making his way to Abby's darkened office, feeling uncomfortably like an intruder as he pulled out the much-used futon from its hiding place and attempted to get some sleep.

* * *

She woke up feeling nauseous and only just managed to turn her head away from the pillow over the side of the bed before her stomach decided to empty its meagre contents. She eased herself back onto the bed when she was sure the need to throw up had passed, rolling over gingerly to lie on her back.

Still in the damn bedroom, staring up at the same cracks in the ceiling.

"Can't take much more of this," she muttered, eyes sliding shut as her body slowly adjusted to her new position.

Even the silence of the room felt too loud. She could hear the thump-thump of her heart, the slight creak of the mattress springs as she shifted ever so slightly.

"I'm glad you're awake." The voice came from the doorway but her head hurt too much to move it. "I was worried I'd given you too much too soon."

"I wish you had," Abby mumbled, forcing her eyes open. She swallowed reflexively, features twisting at the aftertaste in her mouth. "So what's the plan today? More psychoanalysing?"

Laffiter laughed and moved from his place resting against the doorframe. He walked around the bed, avoiding the side where she'd vomited and sat down beside her. He watched, amused, as she eyed the distance between where she lay and the open door. "I wouldn't, Abigail. You're too weak to get far and we both know you'll have to be punished if you try it."

"You didn't answer the question," she retorted, ignoring the stark warning but choosing not to risk having him carry it out. "Who do you want to talk about today?"

"No one." Laffiter stood and grinned when the mattress shifted, promoting a groan from her at the movement. "We have nine hours left, my dear Abigail. Nine hours should be plenty of time to work on removing some more of your markings and move to another, safer location."

She glared at him through narrowed eyes, sweat beading on her brow. "You're not touching anymore of my tattoos."

"Of course I am," his grin grew wider as he rolled his eyes. "They're quite recognisable, Abigail. Can't have someone seeing one and reporting a sighting to the cops, can we?"

Abby pushed herself up, biting her lip against the wave of nausea that crashed over her – whether it was caused by the motion or the implication, she didn't know. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

His answer was short but certainly not sweet. "No, Abigail, I'm not."

* * *

A shrill beeping woke him up. McGee sat up with a slight yell, pressing a hand to his racing heart as he tried to get his bearings.

Abby's office...? Why was he sleeping in Abby's office and where was the woman herself...?

It came back to him in a torrent of memories, fuelled by the still steady beeping.

He got to his feet and half-stumbled, half-ran into the main lab, skidding to a halt in front of the beeping computer. He blinked, rubbed his bleary eyes and blinked again, staring at the screen in hopeful disbelief.

One hand fumbled for the phone even as the other started shakily typing commands into the keyboard. The call was answered after two rings.

"Boss? I think we've found her."

* * *

She fought with him despite her weakened state. Abby lashed out with her arms and legs, scratching him with her nails even as his fists pummelled her tender flesh and bruised her skin. She dragged her feet, her body bumping off walls, doorframes and the banisters of the old house as he half-pushed, half-carried her downstairs.

He won, of course, successfully manoeuvring her into the basement of the building, into the blindingly white room with the sickeningly sterile smell.

"No!" Exhausted but fighting with renewed vigour, Abby did her best to struggle against him as he picked her up and put her on the gurney, face down. She thrashed her arms and legs, making it difficult for him to fasten the restraints over her limbs but not impossible. A whimper escaped her as her body was pinned down, her heart pounding in her chest as tears leaked from her eyes and soaked the white sheet beneath her cheek. "Please don't do this. Please."

His hand rested for a moment on the small of her back before he picked up a scalpel from the small trolley beside the gurney. He cut the material of her shirt, exposing her bare skin to the cool air of the room.

"Please," she begged, hands twisting in their restraints, hurting the already bruised skin further.

Laffiter walked to the top of the bed, bending slightly so she could see his face. Blood, drying quickly, marred his brow, the evidence of a well-aimed slash of her nails. "I wish there could be another way, Abigail, but there isn't. I want my wife to be pure, to be mine. No remainders of your old life can remain."

"That's never going to happen," Abby spat, trying to sound more angry than afraid.

He didn't answer, just straightened and moved across the room, away from her. She heard the sound of him donning a pair of latex gloves, followed by another. Then she heard the sounds she vaguely remembered and associated with the painful removal of her cob web tattoo, the scent of chemicals growing stronger as he mixed his concoction together once more.

She struggled, trying to tug her hands free, as Laffiter approached her, ceramic bowl and brush in hand.

"It's going to hurt," he warned her, voice slightly muffled by the mask he now wore over his mouth and nose. "It's a larger area, thicker ink... It's a slightly higher concentration, so might leave a slight scar but I wouldn't worry about it, Abigail. No one but you or I will know it's there."

His gloved hands set the bowl down on the tray. She heard something rip then felt more than saw the cool dampness of a sterile wipe swabbing the skin of her back. She tried to twist her body but found his other gloved hand returned to push her down firmly.

"Don't. Please..." Her whimper turned into a sob, her eyes stinging with salty moisture. "Please don't."

His gloved fingers traced the lines of the cross etched into her skin with reverence. It was almost reluctantly that he picked up the bowl and brush again and leaned in to begin his ministrations...

A dull thump startled him before he could begin.

He swore under his breath, sweat dripping from his brow as Abby craned her head upwards towards the ceiling of the room, her heart in her throat. She strained her ears, listening intently.

_"NCIS, Federal Agents! Abby!"_

Relief swarmed her, made her dizzy. She pulled at her restraints and took a deep breath. "I'm here! Gibbs! I'm down here!"

"Shut up, you little bitch!" Laffiter pushed her head down, muffling her screams. Her lips were pushed against her teeth so hard she could taste blood. "Keep quiet."

"Not a chance in hell," Abby snarled, jerking her head to the side. She cried out as his hands tangled in her hair and pulled but it didn't stop her for shouting with all she had left in her. "GIBBS! I'M DOWN HERE!"

Several more thumps, the sound of doors being forcefully opened and slammed back on their hinges, the sound of footsteps clambering up and down stairs. She craned her neck and stared hopefully at the door, willing it to swing open.

"They can't hear you," Laffiter mumbled, almost sounding as though he didn't believe it himself. "They don't know you're here, Abigail. They have no idea..." He picked up the scalpel he'd used to cut her shirt and leaned down. "I'm sorry it has to end this way, so very sorry..." He wrapped a fist in her hair and pulled her head up, resting the scalpel gently against the skin of her neck as a loud crash echoed around the room. Laffiter looked up into cold blue eyes and felt his hand tremble. "You can't have her, Agent Gibbs. You took my cousin from me so I'm going to take her from you."

"Drop it, Laffiter, or I put a bullet through you."

Laffiter laughed, a slightly strangled, panicked sound. "Before or after I slice her pretty little throat?" His hand moved, the smallest inkling of pressure on the blade. Beads of red blood appeared like magic against the pale skin of Abby's throat, a tiny sound escaping her at the shallow incision. "Decision time, Agent Gibbs. Kill me and risk killing your little lab rab. Don't kill me and watch her die anyway. What's it going to be?"

Abby close her eyes against the indecision that showed momentarily on Gibbs' face. Her hands and feet remained tied, the only thing keeping her from falling flat on her face being Laffiter's hand in her hair.

It was the end; she knew it. She squeezed her eyes shut just that little bit tighter and waited for the finale blow.

The bullet struck him right between the eyes, the scalpel falling from his limp hand onto the gurney. He slumped forward, his body pressing hers down and Abby had to twist uncomfortably to avoid leaning on the blood stained blade.

In what seemed like seconds, Laffiter's lifeless form was shifted off her. She heard the low murmuring of someone's voice but couldn't make out the words passed the sound of blood pounding through her head. The restraints were removed and she felt herself being lifted, carefully manoeuvred so she was sitting upright on the gurney, held there by two strong arms that wrapped around her tightly.

"It's okay, Abs. I've got you." Warm lips brushed against her forehead as Gibbs rocked her in his arms. "You're safe now. It's over."

Cradled against him, listening to the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest, Abby began to let herself believe it was true. Her gaze dropped to the body on the floor and she shivered, burrowing herself further into his arms. Pulling her eyes away from Laffiter and the blood oozing from the bullet wound, she looked up to find McGee, Tony and Ziva standing in a half-circle near the gurney, relief and concern etched on their faces.

"I knew you'd find me," she murmured, her voice hoarse from screaming. She closed her eyes and turned her face into Gibbs' chest, body relaxing against him it gave in to exhaustion. "I knew it."

"Always." A feather-light kiss against her brow and the soft whisper against her ear were the last things she remembered as darkness took its hold on her. "I'll always find you, Abs."

* * *

It wasn't a hospital bed she woke up in, much to her surprise and infinite relief. She stretched out over the soft sheets, wincing when her muscles and bruised limbs protested. Opening her eyes, she frowned up at the ceiling, knowing it was familiar but unable to place exactly where from.

Cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach as her mind took her back to another room, one she'd thought she'd never escape from.

"Take it easy, my dear." The soft, cultured voice soothed her nerves even as she sat up in fright. She blinked to clear her vision, her shoulders slumping in relief when the man sitting in the chair next to her smiled warmly. "You've been through quite the traumatic experience. I told Jethro you should have stayed at the hospital but he insisted it would be the last place you'd want to wake up."

"He'd be right, Ducky." She gazed at him and smiled, her cheeks aching with the action she hadn't used for so long. "It's so good to see you."

Ducky blushed a little but the smile stayed in place. "It's good to be seen by such a beautiful young woman," he returned softy. He moved his hand to hers, fingers wrapping gently around her wrist as he felt her pulse. "A few more days resting and you'll be back to your old self, I'm pleased to say."

Her smile faded marginally and she lifted her free hand to touch her neck. "Not exactly but close enough."

"There is that." He released her wrist only to pat her hand. "There's no scarring but the new skin will need time to heal completely. I wouldn't recommend you replace your tattoo for some time, Abby. Perhaps never."

Abby gave him a slight nod, her hand dropping to her lap. "At least it was only one. I can live with that."

"And live you shall." He beamed at her, eyes bright with affection, and got to his feet. "I promised Jethro I would fetch him should you wake up. Not that he's getting the sleep I recommended, of course. I rather suspect he's working on his boat again, though why he bothers when it won't be leaving his basement anytime soon, I don't know."

She lay back down as he left the room, muttering to himself. She was in Gibbs' house; that was why it felt so familiar. She smiled and turned her head into the pillow, inhaling the scent lingering there before turning her head to stare up at the ceiling again.

"Hey." The man himself appeared in no more than a few minutes, making short work of the distance between them to sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Abby turned her head and gazed at him, feeling shy all of a sudden but trying to work passed it by mustering up a typical Abby-smile. "Tired, mostly. Wondering how I managed to kick you out of your room when I've been asleep the whole time."

"You needed the sleep so you got the best bed." Gibbs took her hand, tracing patterns over her skin with his thumb. "You scared me, Abs."

"Scared myself, too." She smirked a little, unable to stop herself. "Though technically, it was Laffiter who scared us both."

His hand tightened around hers and he grimaced in spite of his best efforts. "He won't be scaring anyone again." They lapsed into a companionable silence, broken only by the sound of the doorbell followed by familiar voices. "Time for shift change. Everyone's been taking a turn to sit with you, waiting for you to wake up."

"Gibbs..." Her voice stopped him from getting up. "I don't know how much you saw or heard..."

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he hushed her with a finger to her lips. "We don't have to talk about it now, Abby. There's plenty of time for that later." When she started to protest, he leaned forward and replaced his finger with his lips in the barest of touches, the softest of kisses, a promise more eloquent than words.

Too stunned to say anything, Abby watched in silence as he got up and left the room. She lifted a hand to her lips, her brow furrowed as she tried to work out if he'd really kissed her or not, a smile playing about on her lips when she realised she wasn't dreaming. Turning her head into the pillow once more, she closed her eyes and let the familiar voices down below lull her into a deep, healing sleep.


End file.
